Kill Phil
by frog781203
Summary: A young boy and his brother are on the lam from the police after Phil's multiple murders come to light and assassins begin targeting the tragic orphans
1. In the CemeteryEnter EstelleAssassins

_A boy sat alone in a graveyard. He was seven years old, his name was Phillip, and he was an orphan. Visiting the grave site of his mother and father and deep in thought, the boy_

_did not hear a stranger sneak up behind him._

_"Quiet, boy. Don't say a word!" the stranger said, wrapping one arm around Phillip's neck, almost choking him. "One word, and I'll cut your throat!"_

Phillip, his body flailing in the air, was able to reach into his pocket and grab his pocket knife. Opening it, he twisted his arm and stabbed the stranger right in the throat. Suddenly,

Phillip (or Phil as he preferred) dropped to the ground, and grunted as the air once again was forced out of his body. After catching his breath, he turned to the stranger, seeing

blood shooting randomly out of the wound where Phil's knife met with flesh. The man's bloodshot eyes were searching in all directions, andhis right arm was twitching in death

throes. The man, after meeting Phil's eyes, gave a gurgling gasp, and his body went slack.

"Hmmm…." Phil said to no one in particular, looking at the new corpse.

"What to do now…. I know! I'll harvest his body for organs!" and, with this new challenge, he yanked his pocket knife out of the man's neck and dragged the man into a nearby

bush to hide from grieving citizens.

Several hours later, Phil had a brand new pair of lungs, heart, spleen, uterus (Phil was a child. He didn't know men didn't have a uterus.) and was working on the intestines when

he heard a scream above him. Looking up, he saw a girl about his age with absolute terror in her eyes. Before she could scream again, Phil sprung onto her and put his hand on her

mouth.

"Scream again. I dare you." Phil said, looking into her crystal blue eyes. She was actually quite pretty , now that he took the time to study her. She was in a traditional black dress,

and she had curly blonde hair. She nodded once, and he moved her hand. He winced, noticing the fresh blood on her porcelain face. Gonna be hard to explain that to Mommy and

Daddy.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked, whispering so quietly he had to ask her to repeat herself.

"Oh, that!" he said, gesturing to the scum that tried to kill him. "I'm just playing, ummm…" he couldn't think of anything that children generally do. What would she believe? He

didn't want to kill her, but he didn't want her running off and warning the coppers. Finally, it came to him.

"I'm playing paddy-cake." He said, smiling proudly at remembering a children's game. His smile fell however, when he saw her eyes change from one of fear to confusion.

"Well…. You're doing it all wrong." She said quietly, crawling over to the dead man. "You're supposed to play with his hands, not his…. Ummm…." She trailed off, holding one of the

man's organs.

"Spleen?" Phil offered.

"Yeah, his spleen. And he shouldn't be asleep. And you shouldn't be giving him anymore boo-boos."

Phil laughed. What the heck were boo-boos? He decided to play along, as the girl amused him.

"Can you show me how to play paddy-cake, then?" he said innocently, holding out his hands.

"Okay…." She said hesitantly, and showed him where the hands meet, and then when he finally got it, she started going on about making a cake. He wasn't really listening,

occupied with bigger problems than this girl. How was he going to get the body out of here? And the organs? He was just starting to finish up when this ridiculous girl stumbled in.

The girl realized he was getting aggravated, and slowly stopped playing. She looked at her hands, and realized while playing she had gotten some more blood on herself. She looked

back at the boy, who had turned back to the hurt man. Maybe he was a doctor? She had never seen one so young, and she didn't know why he wasn't in an office. She

remembered her Mommy saying that you should never judge a book by its cover, so she decided to start a conversation.

"I'm Estelle, by the way. Estelle LaRoux." She said, looking at the boy. He looked at her, elbow-deep in the man's stomach. She flinched, wondering why the boy didn't have any

gloves on. Mommy said that could make you sicker.

"I'm Phil." Estelle waited for more, but he turned back to his task. She hesitated, then decided to continue.

"Are you a doctor? Is this man sick?" she waited for an answer, but instead of giving one, the boy, Phil, started laughing madly. She started to back away, and then stopped. She

didn't want Phil to get even angrier, as he obviously was. She decided that he scared her, and he definitely wasn't a doctor.

"No, I'm not a doctor. I'm playing paddy-cake, remember?" Phil said after he calmed down.

"But I_ showed_ you how to play paddy-cake. You're doing it wrong again. What are you doing!?" Estelle said, near hysterics. Phil stopped searching for the stranger's kidneys and

turned to her. She was obviously holding back tears, and her eyes were darting, searching for an escape, reminding him of the man before he died.

"Hey," Phil said, trying to be reassuring. Estelle looked at him, hopeful for some explanation to what she was seeing. He put a bloody hand on her shoulder.

"Shut up."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, her bottom lip began to quiver. Phil knew the signs; he was ready for what was going to come next. But he never knew how loud someone so

small could be. Estelle started wailing like a wounded animal, heaving deep sobs.

"No, stop crying, I didn't mean to say that. Please, be quiet…." He said, trailing off as he heard several feet outside running over. He had no choice, he couldn't be caught. He

grabbed as many organs as he could along with the man's wallet and snuck silently back deeper into the bush.

He heard leaves rustling against one another, and heard the men's voices and screams as he backed deeper and deeper. His body screamed to jump up and run, but he knew in

doing so he would be caught. Estelle was in mourning, she wouldn't be the only one here, and he wasn't going to be outrunning an entire group of depressed, angry adults.

After some more hurried scooting, his back hit a tree trunk, and he slowly edged his away around to the back. He knew this cemetery like the back of his own hand, which helped

his situation just a tad. Beyond the tree trunk there was a hedge separating the morgue from the actual graveyard. All he had to do was sneak in, grab a bucket for the organs,

and call his brother. He'd know what to do.

Phil snuck into the back of the morgue, locking the door behind him, leaving the screaming congregation and taking refuge in the silence that is death. He ran over to the table and

dropped the organs onto a freshly cleaned corpse, and began to search the room. He didn't find much, a few Target bags, a plastic garbage can, and a cheese grater. After much

consideration, Phil dumped the garbage can's contents on the floor and swiped the organs in, pocketing the wallet. He also threw the cheese grater in there for good measure.

Just when he was about to leave, he heard the back door's knob start to jiggle. Putting the garbage can under a table of medical equipment, he jumped into an open coffin and

quietly closed it right before the door opened.

"Jesus Christ, dude, what was that?! Who would do that?! What are we going to do about—"

"Shut up, Ben! We need to make sure no one's here."

Phil listened as the two men searched the morgue, closing his eyes, dreading the inevitable moment when the coffin would open. To his surprise, it stayed closed, and one of the

men, Ben, started whining again.

"What do we do, man? We're so dead, we're so dead—"

A loud slap sounded in the air, and Ben stopped his bickering. Phil was confused now. How were these men dead? If anyone was dead, it was him!

"Shut up, Ben! My God, you should've attacked the boy, not Abe. I liked Abe. You, on the other hand, are stupid and annoying. And smelly."

It appeared that Ben did not care that he was being insulted, or was just used to it, since he kept right on complaining.

"But, Jon, what happens when the kid finds us, huh? Did you see what he did?! That kid _dissected_ Abe! Am I the only one who finds this freaking mission a death wish? What

happens when the kid finds out what really happened to his parents, huh? We're next, Jon! WE'RE NEXT!"

Another slap. More silence. Phil heard Jon sigh.

"Come on, Ben. The boy will be found soon enough. Maybe the coppers will do our job for us." And with that, the men opened the door and left.

Phil opened the coffin, and looked around the room, confused. He reached into his pocket and looked at the man's wallet.

"Abraham Campbell." He read quietly to himself. Abe. Jon's good friend. When Phil was attacked, he wasn't thinking of why the man, Abe apparently, attacked him in the first place.

As he was slicing into the man's body, it didn't cross his mind. While he was talking to Estelle, it again escaped him. How could that little detail fail to present itself to him? He was

getting rusty. He needed to call Joey.


	2. Enter JoeyThe Accident

Joey was mad. When Phil called to say he needed to get picked up from the cemetery, he didn't think it would be in the chaos that it was in. When Joey was finally able to sneak

past all of the coppers, he found a bloody Phil hiding in an old foxhole clutching a bucket of organs, and for whatever reason, a cheese grater. Joey was almost tempted to just leave

the kid for the coppers, but he didn't have the heart to do it. And he promised Mom he'd take care of the family when she was gone.

So Joey did what he had to do. He buried his brother, but first he had to take the organs out to the car and put them in the cooler. Phil insisted, and there really wasn't much time

to argue.

Another 15 hours later, with Joey spending some time in Starbucks, then his car, then Panera, the coppers finally left. He didn't even had to check the place out, he had been

hearing about it non-stop on the radio and telly. He made his way to Phil's foxhole and dragged him to the car, where they had been driving around for hours, heading in any

direction but home. Right now, they were on some empty, dirt road. Joey wanted, no _needed_, to talk some sense into Phil.

"Do you know how much time and energy and bribing and—Are you listening? Okay, do you know how much it's taken to be normal? Every time you do this, it sets me back. I

have to explain to Biddie and my boss and everyone else I know where I'm going every time you screw something up. Are you listening? Phil? Philly!"

Joey slammed the brakes on the car, turning to look at his kid brother. He was examining a blood-stained wallet, no doubt belonging to that guy he butchered.

"Give me that, man." Joey said, reaching for the wallet. Phil glared at him, swiping it out of Joey's reach.

"Phillip, I said gimme that." Joey took the keys out of the ignition.

"No! It's mine; I found it, fair and square!"

"Phillip, killing a guy and mugging them isn't fair; now give me that stupid wallet!"

Mumbling obscenities under his breath, Phil handed the wallet to his brother. Joey, feeling the weight of it, knew there wasn't much cash, but maybe there'd be some cards. He

opened it up, and the face he saw staring back at him made his blood run cold.

"Oh, God…" Phil heard Joey moan, and raised an eyebrow, watching his brother for anything else unusual. Joey's hands had begun shaking, and he started sweating like crazy. Phil

smiled. Maybe now he'd shut up.

"You know him?" Phil asked nonchalantly. Joey glanced at Phil, and shook his head no.

"You're lying….." Phil said, smiling and leaning over to his brother.

"Shut up, man."

"No, you know him, and I want to know where from."

"Phil, I said shut up."

"But I want you—"

"SHUT UP!"

Phil felt himself being pushed into his seat by the sheer force of the car.

"Dude, slow down!" Phil screamed over the roar of the engine. The car didn't have any seat belts and he knew if they crashed, they couldn't exactly call an ambulance with a

bucket of organs in the freezer. And a cheese grater.

"Joey, I said slow down!" No response. "JOEY!"

All of the sudden, Phil was flying. And then he wasn't. He landed hard on dirt, and groaned in pain. He heard the car door slam, and looked up to see his big brother standing over

him.

"Joey, I love you. You're all I have, man. I-I need help. My hip…." He said, moaning and clutching the side of his body. He was seeing red all over the side of his vision; Joey was

nothing but a silhouette, and the entire left side of his body was throbbing real bad.

"Joey, what….help me….please…Joey?" Phil asked weakly. What was he doing? He didn't beg. And Joey didn't disobey. This day sucked so bad. What was going on?

That was the last conscience thought that Phil had before the red turned into black.


	3. InterrogationCoppersGotcha!

Detective Jiggers took another drink from the water bottle next to him. He hated this part of the job. The kid wouldn't stop crying, it made him sick to think that she had to be a

part of this. She was so young and it took hours for them to let her wash off the blood. They had to keep taking their pictures, and swabs and she just sobbed and sobbed. He

sighed, and turned to his partner, Detective Womack. She looked just as uncomfortable, maybe more. No help there.

"Okay, Estelle, maybe we can take a break now, okay?" he asked in the nicest possible voice he could. It was two in the morning, and Skie would be waiting at home for him.

Things had been tense at home, what with baby-number-three on the way. Skie would have to get a job after the baby was born.

He raised his eyebrows when Estelle shook her head.

"No—no you need to catch him. I might forget. What happens if he finds me? He knows my name. He could find me…." She said, looking off into the one-way glass.

"I think we have enough here for now, Estelle." Womack said, smiling sadly at the girl, then getting up to open the door.

"Will you find him? He's really scary. He could hurt me. He hurt that man."

"We'll get him soon, Estelle. You'll be fine." Jiggers said, nodding at Womack.

Estelle got up slowly, looking from the door to the detective in front of her. What if Phil found her? What would she do? Daddy's already in heaven, what happens if he gets

Mommy? She started to cry again, and Womack opened the door, allowing a concerned Ms. LaRoux to run in.

"Shhh… it's gonna be okay, sweetheart. Shh..." Mollie said, glaring at the detectives. Great, another angry parent.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Mollie LaRoux said, glancing from Jiggers to Womack. "Why can't you people ever just listen?"

"That's what we've been doing, Ms. LaRoux. And Estelle has been a very good help." Womack said, smiling at the girl. Estelle hid behind her mother.

"Yes, well, I hope you got everything you need, because that's all you'll get." And with that, they left.

"Well, that was fun." Jiggers said, striding out of the interrogation room. Womack glared at him.

"What did you expect? With what that kid told us, I'm surprised she wasn't catatonic. She was a great help, Chuck. You should be grateful she's still alive."

Jiggers snickered. Womack raised an eyebrow, and, realizing what he was thinking, looked at the ceiling.

"You're seriously not thinking what I think you are." Womack said, looking at him hard.

"Why should I be glad that another kid is traumatized?" Jiggers said, looking right back at her. "Sometimes—sometimes I wonder whether or not half- no, more than half- of the

people who walk in here are better off dead."

Womack raised her eyebrows.

"Well…. I can't say I've ever thought of them like that. If anything, I'm glad that they've witnessed what they have."

"Cases don't matter when the child's sanity is in question, Jane."

"That's not what I mean. It's about coming out of something stronger than you were before going in. You, of all people, should know that."

Jiggers was about to reply when Detective Pocket leaned in, glancing at them both.

"Guys, we've got a sighting."

Jiggers and Womack glanced at one another.

"What do you got, Herb?" Jiggers asked.

"A snapshot of a couple of kids speeding down West 94th." Pocket handed Womack a copy. Jiggers got up and looked over her shoulder, looking at the boys in the car.

One of the kids was without a doubt unconscious, a boy who looked as though he should've been in kindergarten, with a compound fracture in his left arm and dried blood on

various parts of his body. His eyes were closed, but Jiggers would've bet his entire month's salary that there would be some green eyes to match the jet-black hair. The kid driving

looked to be in his late-teens, early twenties, and he was obviously scared about something. His shoulders were hunched over the wheel, and his hazel eyes were wild.

"The younger of the two matches Estelle's description, but who's the older kid?"

"Probably an older brother or cousin. They look related, and a black Sudan was spotted a few times at the crime scene with the same plate number."

"Have you run the plates?"

"Yeah, we got a Joseph Pire who lives in an apartment on Dickens St. No history, he and his younger brother, a seven-year-old named Phillip, live with a Mr. Dodge Oarlock."

"Wait, where are the parents?"

"Went missing about 5 years ago…_oh_, they've got a rap sheet."

Womack pushed past Pocket.

"Well, let's go pick them up."


	4. The DreamThe Doctor

He was underwater. There were sharks, swimming around him, with red eyes and zebra stripes.

There was a lady behind them, holding a man's hand.

They were only shadows now. He forgot their faces years ago.

He reached a hand out to touch them, and the sharks stopped, and turned their bodies to face him. He realized he couldn't breathe, and looked up to see mounds of dirt on top of

him. He couldn't move. He turned to look for the shadows, but they were all around him. He was in nothing _but_ shadows. He looked down and saw a rat gnawing on his arm, and

as he watched it, it looked back at him.

"Hey, we all gotta pitch in here, right Philly?" The rat said, and when he said that the shadows turned into worms and beetles and snakes and lizards and they were all crawling to

him as he screamed and nothing came out.

"Is he gonna be okay, Dr. Copse?" Joey asked, sitting on a chair with his hands clasped in his lap with his head hanging low. How could he let this happen? He had never lost himself

like that before! Why did it have to be around Phil?

"He'll be fine, Joseph. You're just lucky he didn't land on his head. A fall like this could've broken his neck, then we'd be at the morgue, and not in my office."

"Oh, God…." Joey moaned. "This is all my fault. If only I'd gotten a car with freaking seat belts on them!" Joey said, shooting up and kicking his chair. Dr. Copse's eyes widened.

Joey, seeing his reaction, picked up the chair.

"Oh God, Doc, I'm sorry I did that. I haven't been myself lately."

"Heh. Could've fooled me." Dr. Copse turned back to the boy, examining his thigh. It was bruised pretty bad, it would take a couple months to heal. The concussion was mild, but

the boy would have to stay at home and rest, which was nearly impossible.

"So…. I saw the news today." Dr. Copse said, showing an extreme amount of interest in the boy's hand. Joey looked up.

"Yeah, pretty crazy out there right now. I keep telling myself when I get the money, I'm gonna send those refuges some money, but I never seem to remember."

"Joseph…." Dr. Copse turned to the boy. He had known him since he was a toddler, and he knew all of his tricks. He had known Phil longer, and knew more about him. A bit too

much.

"I know that was Phillip on the news today." Dr. Copse waited till Joey looked back at him. "I thought he had gotten over this."

Joey forced a laugh, and then glared at the good doctor with tired eyes.

"So did I." After a while, Dr. Copse looked away. "What do we do now?"

Joey shrugged. "Not much to do."

After some time, they heard Phil groan. Joey sprinted to the table, nearly pushing Dr. Copse to the floor.

"Hey, kid," Joey said. "You alright?"

Phil slowly opened his eyes, waking with a blinding headache. The lights were disgustingly bright, and as an answer, Phil leaned off of the table and puked all over the floor. Turning

back to Joey's fearful gaze, he smiled sleepily.

"Yeah, I'm fine."


	5. The LaRoux Household

The moonlight was streaming in. Estelle never liked to sleep with any lights on, but tonight was different. If he was going to come in through the window, she wanted to see him,

and this time she'd scream and she'd keep screaming.

After they got back from the station, Mollie and her daughter got ready for bed and Mollie rocked Estelle for hours, humming a song that was too old for Estelle to know. That went

on for about two hours, then realizing that it was daytime, Mollie made some breakfast and fell asleep on the couch. Estelle stayed awake for the day, watching the news for hours

on end to see if they caught Phil. She must have fallen asleep at some point, though, because next thing she knew, she was upstairs in her bed watching the moon.

She couldn't sleep. First Daddy got sick, then he went to heaven, and now there was a scary boy who knew her name and who had cried when he said to stop. It wasn't that she

disliked Phil, it was that he terrified her. What if he gave Mommy boo-boos? What if he gave _her _boo-boos? The thing that scared her most was not knowing. He could be anywhere,

and what if she forgot his face? What if he snuck up on her and she didn't have time to scream this time? What if he didn't come? What if he knew this constant suspense was

slowly driving her mad? What if he didn't even care and saw her as something insignificant, and never thought of her again as he went and did the same things over and over

again?

"MOMMY!"


	6. The PiresEnter Womack & Jiggers

"So, what's the Pire family's history?" Jiggers asked, needing something, _anything_, to talk about. Womack had been a bit off since Jiggers latest confession. She wouldn't meet his

eyes, and she didn't talk directly to him. He knew why, of course. When they first partnered up, she practically worshipped him.

She heard the stories back when she was in training, and she didn't exactly enjoy his moments of weakness.

"Well," Womack started, looking at the paper in her hands, "Father's name was Dick Pire, various DUIs and numerous suspicions of involvement with the Havisham family. Married

one Aurelia Grapery, who was picked up more than once for trafficking, and after that nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?"

"I mean no more slaps on the wrist, no more whatever it is they did for the Havishams. No wonder they disappeared."

Jiggers glanced at Womack. She was good at hiding her emotions; she's been doing it for years. He noticed her clenched jaw, though, and knew exactly what she was feeling.

"What's the matter, Jane?"

She sighed. "I got a bad feeling this isn't going to end well."

Jiggers snickered. "Why would you say that?"

"Don't know, just a feeling I've got. It's not like I've been wrong before."

Jiggers took that into consideration. More than once Womack's 'feelings' had saved his, and others, lives. Rookies coughed it up to rain dancing or something like that, but Jigger

knew that it was just a gut instinct, it didn't have to do with race. He used to have those feelings when he was younger, but it must have left with age, because it wasn't there

anymore.

"We're here." Jiggers said, turning off the ignition and leaving his car, Womack following close behind him. Thinking of Womack's feeling, he reached for his gun. Just in case.


	7. Secrets UnrevealedJoey's PlightA Plan

After some kind words to Dr. Copse, Joey and Phil went back home to rest up. Phil wasn't allowed to leave the house for the next two weeks, and certainly not to run off and make

another headline in the papers.

Once they arrived home, Joey let Phil rest up on the couch, and watched a bit of the telly. Most every channel was talking about what they called now the "Mourning Murderer."

Hahaha, Joey thought to himself. What would've happened, he wondered, if Phil killed Abe in the evening?

"Joey?" Phil asked, looking up at his brother with closed eyes.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Why did you get all stupid after you saw the scum's wallet?"

Joey sighed. Whenever Phil killed someone, he always called them 'scum' and 'filth' afterwards. Whatever, it probably made him feel better.

"The man that you killed, he was….ummm….he was a friend of mine back-a, a couple years ago."

Phil gasped, and his eyes widened.

"Is that why you tried to kill me?!" Phil asked, his voice getting shrill. So that's why Joey wasn't obeying him! He must have been close to Abe….Abe, the morgue….

"Do you know any Jons or Bens?" Phil asked.

"What? Why?"

Phil told Joey about what happened after the girl (Esther? Elsa?) started screaming, up till the men left the morgue. He watched Joey carefully, and saw his tongue dart out and lick

his lips while his eyes watched the floor.

When Phil was done, he waited for Joey's reaction.

"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Jesus, Joey thought, how did I screw this kid up so bad? He couldn't have been like this after their parents died, could he? It must be a nature

thing, then, because Joey doesn't _make _children into serial killers.

"Well what?"

"Well how do you know him?"

Just as Joey was debating on whether or not to answer that, and after deciding on an appropriate answer he heard the buzzer sound. Glancing at his brother, who now had both

eyebrows raised, he went to go check to see who it was.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Hello, Mr. Oarlock? I'm Detective Jiggers, and my partner Detective Womack is here with me. Would you let us in?"

Joey knew that tone of voice. That was the 'here, kitty, kitty' voice that adults always used when they were scared. He looked at his baby brother, with his arm and leg casts and

his glazed eyes, the eyes of a killer. His mother's eyes.

"I-I don't think I could let you in, Detectives. It's-ummm…it's such an awful mess up here. And my brother….he's sick….can't go to school today. Is that what you're here about?"

he said. Stupid! Why the heck would there be coppers here over a sick day? Everyone knew that, that's the most suspicious thing ever! His father would be ashamed.

"Your brother? Is Mr. Oarlock there?" A woman's voice now. Doubling back on her recent question, she went right back to the first one. "Mr. Pire, please let us up. We just want to

talk."

"You- you need a warrant. Till then, go away."

"Mr. Pire, we have a warrant. Let us up. It'll be easier this way."

"NO! You're not taking Philly! No one's taking Philly!"

Phil winced as he slowly sat up. Joey was being ignorant. How on Earth was he supposed to fight off two armed coppers and get a boy who could barely walk out of there?

"Joey," Phil said, and waited for his big brother to turn to him. "It's over. There's nothing you can do."

Joey whimpered, and then his face brightened as an idea came to him.

"Like hell it is," Joey said, as he pressed the buzzer again.


	8. Apartment of HorrorsThe Chase

"All right, Detectives. You can come up."

Jiggers raised his eyebrows, putting his gun back in his holster. What was going on here? After the reaction he got from the older boy, he was sure that he and Womack would have

to call for back-up. Now, all of a sudden, the kid was inviting them in with open arms. He didn't like it.

"What's going on here, Chuck?" Womack asked while they were walking up the stairs.

He laughed. "How am I supposed to know? Maybe the kid came to his senses and realized there was nowhere to run?" He was trying to convince himself and Womack, but neither

one bought it.

Before he knew it, Jiggers and Womack were standing right outside of apartment 34C, home of the Pire brothers.

"Let's get this over with," Womack said, knocking on the door. "Open up, Mr. Pire. It's Detective Womack."

Suddenly they heard a loud crash from inside. Jiggers shoved the door down and what he saw in that room will never leave him.

The walls had random blood spatters all over, and every picture that was hanging there had been smashed on the ground. The hooks that held those pictures now held various

hearts, and there were other organs thrown on chairs, the couch, even a bladder thrown on the telly. It looked like something from a movie, everything was drenched in fluids.

Jiggers motioned for Womack to follow, getting his gun out. They checked everywhere, the boys weren't home.

"What do we do now?" Womack asked. They were in the kitchen, various blades laid on the table next to a human skull. Jiggers had just called for back-up, and in a few minutes

the press would be here, too.

"We wait."

Mere seconds after he said that, they heard a loud thump come from the hall and, jumping from their chairs, they saw the front door slam shut and heard feet pounding down the

stairs.

"Womack, go after them! Make sure they don't get away!" he said as he brought his walkie-talkie to his mouth. Womack nodded and ran after the two 'suspects', her jacket

billowing behind her as she disappeared down the hall.


	9. Phil's PrizesCamoEscape

Phil's heart was beating against his ribcage, threatening to explode from his chest. Joey was holding him over his shoulder, the other arm had two duffel bags in hand. The two boys

were thundering down the stairs, no doubt alerting all the neighbors that there was a chase going on.

After Joey had told the coppers that they could come up, he went in the cellar and threw all of Phil's 'souvenirs' on the floor, breaking all of the glass pictures and even smashing in

the microwave. Phil was furious.

"What are you doing, Joey?! The coppers are coming up; we need to get rid of this stuff, not throw it all over the house! STOP IT, THOSE ARE MINE!"

"SHUT UP!" Joey said, rummaging through the closet and taking out their duffel bags. Back when Phil started his 'hobby,' Joey decided that they needed a plan in case if the

coppers showed up. The bags were part of it, but ruining Phil's collection was _not_.

"Joey, they're coming upstairs! What are you doing?"

"Just go with it, kid. I've got a plan."

Joey started rubbing himself, the bags, and Phil with blood and draping some guts on him for good measure. Then, he put Phil and the bags in a dark corner by the door and told

him again to shut up. With that, he was gone.

Phil heard a knock on the door.

"Open up, Mr. Pire. It's Detective Womack."

Little after that, Phil heard the back window shattering. The door burst open, and the detectives gasped. Phil knew if they just looked a bit longer in his direction, they would see

him, so he closed his bright green eyes and prayed. He found that funny, how he prayed to a God who's every rule he had broken.

Miraculously, these coppers were too distracted by the scene in front of him to check to see what was under all of the meat and bags in the corner. They made their way to the

kitchen, and disappeared.

Phil opened his eyes, and saw Joey sneaking over on the balls of his feet. He put a finger to his lips, and carefully lifted the bags off of Phil. Once he had slung them over his

shoulder, he reached his hand out to help him up. Phil, in his hurry to get out, had forgotten the giant cast on his leg, and he moved it forward to meet his brother.

As he did so, it made a loud _thump _on the floor, and he heard the coppers conversations stop, and felt a great push as Joey threw him over his shoulder and ran out the door,

slamming it shut behind him.

Phil heard a pair of feet running after them, and Joey picked up the pace. His head was throbbing again and he felt as though the constant bouncing would kill him. Looking up, he

saw a woman running after them, shouting something that he couldn't hear. He laughed, not at her, but at Joey. What did he think he was doing?

He felt himself plunge forward as Joey lost his footing and fell down the stairs. Phil screamed as he went into the air for the second time that day.

This time, however, there was no end to his fall. Phil constantly tumbled and fell. At some point, he must have blacked out, because once again he felt himself being tugged from

the floor and thrown onto his brother's back.

He heard the lady again, but didn't bother opening his eyes. What was there to see? She'd just be chasing after him and Joey, yelling for them to stop.

He heard more screams, more cries as his neighbor saw the bloody mess that they were in. Joey pushed through all of them, the only goal he had in his mind was outside, outside.

He had to protect Philly, it wasn't his fault he killed those people. It was their own. He realized that after he saw Abe's face on that driver's license. If anyone deserved to die, it was

him. Philly also had a reason for those other people, he just had to! There must've been some method to his madness; it couldn't be because it was fun!

He had hurt his knee during the fall, but there was no reason to check it now. It would be suicide. What with that crazy Indian lady sprinting after them, he needed to get outside,

outside.

Phil felt fresh air on his face as he heard the bell ding as they left the apartment building. He heard more screams around him as they saw the guts streaming down the brother's

faces, and he felt Joey run out on the street. Idiot! He was going to get them killed! Going out on the highway at this hour, they'd be road kill in a few seconds.

Joey ran forward, knowing his car wouldn't get far. They obviously had his plate number, and the windshield was still broken from his little meltdown. He had to pick up someone

else's.

"OPEN THE CAR, OR I'LL SHOOT YOU RIGHT IN YOUR—"

Phil heard a scream and then a loud _bang! _after his brother's threat. Since when did Joey have a gun?

"FREEZE, PIRE!" he heard the lady scream at them. He heard another bang, and tried desperately to open his eyes, but they refused to obey.

He heard Joey whimper, and then felt himself being chucked onto the passenger's seat.

"Nonononono….." Phil said, trying with all of his might to stay conscious, to no avail.


	10. Womack's FailureUnder Control

"Crapcrapcrapcrap…." Womack said as she pulled over a civilian's car.

"Sir, I'm going to have to commandeer this vehicle." And, with that, she pushed the confused man onto the street.

Jumping in, she just saw the car speed off onto Buck St. and revved the engine, racing to catch them. These kids were sick, they shouldn't be allowed in society. She couldn't lose

them.

It was nearly impossible driving with all of the traffic. Everywhere she turned, some angry, caffeinated white person screamed some insults and flipped her off. She just ignored

them, and kept honking her horn.

She was two cars behind them, when all of the sudden the kids pulled over and ran into an alleyway. Swearing, she stopped and ran after them, holding her gun at the side. Just

one more corner, she thought. Just one more corner and I can go home and get these creeps off the streets.

She turned the corner and saw, nothing. A few garbage cans and a drunken hobo were the only things that met her eyes.

"Hey, Pocahontas..." the man slurred. "Whatcha (burp) doing here?"

She wrinkled her nose. God, he smelled!

"I'm-I'm looking for a couple of kids. Did anyone run in here?"

The hobo looked around lazily.

"Naw, no one's here 'cept me. Oh yeah, can you spare some change?"

Womack fished through her pockets and found some nickels, putting them in a pile next to the man.

"Bless ya, miss."

She nodded and continued on. There was no way she was going to take the word of some drunk that he didn't see the Pire's run by. But, there was nothing to be found. There was

a side door that led to the back of some Asian restaurant, but the place was closed up, and the doors were locked. She even called the owner to be sure, it wasn't open, and he

didn't know any Joseph or Phillip Pire.

She sighed. There was nothing else to do. She called up Jiggers for a ride to the station.

As Womack slammed Jiggers car door shut behind her and the two sped away, the smelly hobo took a cell out of his pocket, dialing an untraceable number.

"They're gone, Jon. We got the Pire's, too. It's all under control."


	11. In the DarkTwitchyFight

He was slung over Joey's shoulder again, like some sack of garbage. He wanted to tell Joey how pathetic all of this was, how the coppers would get to them eventually, but all he

could manage was some awkward gargling noises. It was from his concussion, he knew that. That idiot! Who gets a car with no seat belts? Someone with just enough money to

buy something as run down as a car that hadn't been used since the 50s. He would have to have a word with Joey later concerning his impertinence.

They were running in some dark hallway, the door in that alleyway happened to be open. Although, while they were speeding away, Phil could've sworn that he saw someone sneak

back and lock it behind them… it was nothing. He chalked it up to his concussion and

paid attention to the more important matters at hand.

"Joee…" Joey heard his little brother say. He skidded to a stop, realizing what he was doing.

"Oh, crap, Phil…. I forgot about the crash… I'm sorry, kid," Joey said, and gently laid him on the ground, turning on his cell phone light to examine his brother.

He looked unnaturally pale, and his eyes were flitting open, fighting to stay awake. Joey felt his throat tighten. This was his entire fault. His brother was going to die in some

obscure, dark room on a cold hard floor because _he _let him go to the cemetery by himself, because _he _didn't have any seat belts, because _he _went back home to a couple of coppers

trying to bust in. why did he even let Phil go to the cemetery, anyways? They both knew that those graves weren't their parents; he should've put his foot down years ago!

"NO!" Joey shouted, standing up and pacing the floor. He needed to call Dr. Copse, he needed someone here with him, someone who could help him. He was just 17, for Christ's

sake! How was he supposed to do this?

He fell onto the floor, sobbing. He couldn't do anything; the coppers were probably back at Dr. Copse's right now, beating the crap out of him. What was he supposed to do? He was

tired, he wanted this whole mess to go away, and the blood was starting to itch. He wanted to go home, and he wanted Philly to go with him.

He flinched as he moved his leg. Oh, right, that thing. Looking down, he saw that his entire right leg was swollen real badly around the knee. He grabbed Phil's duffel and zipped it

open, knowing that he would have something in there to cut off his pants leg. Zipping it open, his mouth dropped when he saw all of the machetes and Magnums. Riffling through

it, he realized that _everything _in there was some kind of weapon. He chuckled to himself. What in God's name was he supposed to do with that boy?

Carefully taking out a kitchen knife, he cut off his pants leg to see the extent of the damage. He didn't realize that he had fallen so badly, he was too busy making sure Philly didn't

hit the ground, and even there he failed miserably.

The knee was a dark purplish color, and there was a gash coming from the side oozing blood andGod knows what else. He picked up the phone and was dialing the Doc's number

when he heard something clatter behind him. He sprang to his feet, grabbing one of Phil's machetes, and waited. He knew this couldn't be some random coincidence. He wasn't

some stupid kid, like in those movies. He'd seen enough of those, and he knew the second he turned his back, some psycho in a hockey mask would gouge his eyes out and play

jump rope with his intestines. He chuckled nervously to himself. That would be cool.

"Hello, Joey." He heard a voice say. He darted his head around the room, stopping at his brother. He didn't look like he was even breathing, let alone talking. Joey cringed. What

would his mother say?

"Who's there?"

A knowing chuckle.

"Turn around, bright eyes."

"Every now and then I fall apart!"

A slap. Silence.

Slowly, Joey turned around and saw two men. They had matching eye-patches, and blue suede shoes. The taller of the two was wearing a fedora hat and beard, and he looked like

he was on some kind of steroid, he was that giant. The other one had some crazy twitch, and every once in a while he would scream for no reason. But the one thing that Joey

noticed was what they were holding, fedora hat had a harpoon while twitchy was holding a crossbow.

Fedora hat laughed when he noticed Joey's reaction.

"You're not going anywhere, Ponyboy! Yeah, yeah…" Twitchy said, giggling uncontrollably. Fedora hat glared at him.

"Shut up, Twitchy." He said, slapping him hard on the head. Wow. That was really his name.

"Sorry, Matt. I didn't mean it. Here, I got somethin' better," Twitchy apologized, and, taking a step closer to Joey, puffed out his chest.

"Bet you don't even lift, bra. You don't even lift!" Twitchy said laughing again. He stopped, though, when he saw his boss's face.

"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS, TWITCHY?! GOD, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!"

Joey watched in horror as Matt pulled the trigger and Twitchy, suppressing more giggles, was shot right in the heart. His eyes bugged out of their sockets, looking right at Joey. He

looked down, and both boys, who were probably only a few years apart, looked at his impaled heart. It had left his body along with the harpoon, and it was still beating, slowly

coming to a stop. Twitchy's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped to the floor.

Joey gave a startled cry and backed up a bit, bumping into someone else. Turning around, he realized another man was hiding in the shadows, and looking around him, noticed

more and more outlines starting to materialize around him. Fedora hat was laughing again.

"Why? Why are you doing this? We're-we're just kids, man." Fedora hat stopped laughing, and his face became stoic.

"You know why," he said, and addressing his comrades, said in a booming voice, "Boys, you know what to do!" Giving Joey one last look, he turned and left the room.


	12. Phil's AwakeningJoey's Resistance

Phil was in and out of consciousness. He heard crashes, voices; he could've even sworn he heard a harpoon whizz by, but that was probably just his imagination going off again. At

some point, however, he was able to open his eyes, and realized that Joey had, yet again, stumbled into another trap, dragging Phil along with him. Joey was looking around the

room, and Phil had a sudden urge to tell him that he was still holding _his _machete, but decided against it. Maybe this time he'll learn his lesson.

Joey lunged to the man he bumped into, slashing his chest with Phil's machete. The man, though, seemed not to feel anything, and stumbled forward. Joey slashed again, this time

aiming for the man's throat. This time, he dropped, blood gushing out of the slice in his neck.

Joey took a step back, kicking Phil's weapons. Yes, yes! Use them! Phil thought, suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing his big brother do something cool. Joey reached down,

and Phil heard a bullet whizz by and hit a pipe, knocking hot air out. Two people leaning in with baseball bats were immediately shot with the deadly heat, and howled in agony.

Joey, seeing all of this, grabbed the bag and moved farther away and, in doing so, father from Phil.

Phil groaned. Joey had no idea what he was doing. If only he didn't have these stupid casts on, he might've been able to do something. Once again, Joey had to ruin something

beautiful.

One of the shadows leaned in towards Phil and sneered at him. He had a gold tooth, and his breath smelled like onions. Phil sneered right back at him, and spat in his face. The

man's face took on an angry shade of red and he whipped out a pocket knife. Phil's smile never faltered. If the man had pulled out a gun, Phil would've probably soiled himself.

Pocket knives, however, were his specialty.

The man darted in to swipe at Phil, and the boy veered to the right, allowing the man to fall on his face. The knife clattered onto the floor, and Phil lunged towards it, fighting the

instant wave of pain that overcame him.

The man looked at the boy with a mix of fury and fear. He had heard what had happened in the cemetery, he knew what the child was capable of. He grabbed at the knife, but the

boy again predicted his moves and was able to keep a hold of the blade. Phil jumped onto the man, forcing him onto his back, and with a look of pure glee on his face, he plunged

the knife deep into the man's stomach.

Joey heard a cry of pain from the corner where Phil was and mentally slapped himself. Stupid! How could he forget the one person he had to protect? How could he be so selfish?!

Dodging a woman wielding a flamethrower, he ran back to his brother. What he saw changed his life forever.

His baby brother had ripped apart a man's stomach and was searching for something inside. He felt his own stomach begin to tighten. What was with Phil and organs?! Couldn't he

just kill someone and be done with it? It wasn't that tough of a decision!

Joey saw a shadow taking out a gun. Oh no you don't! Phillip was a crazy kid, but he was _his _responsibility!

"NO!" Phillip heard a cry from behind him. Curses, Joey! He was in the zone, why couldn't his brother understand that? He heard a gunshot, and turned to see Joey standing over

another shadow, holding a smoking gun. Bravo, Joseph! Came to your senses now, did you?

Phil heard the man moan, and remembering his mission, got back to work. He had almost found what he was looking for when…. Ah! There it was!

Joey turned to the other attackers, firing the gun at anything holding a weapon, when he heard his brother's scream following a gunshot. Oh, great! That's just great! One of his

wild shots had hit Phil in the shoulder! Sometimes he wondered whether Philly was right and he _was _a complete moron.

It appeared that Joey had shot Phil while he was in the middle of something. The child had a string of intestines curling around his hands, and he was apparently using the man's

own guts to strangle him to death. Joey felt as though he could hear every gasp and squish that came from the dying man, as his brother's tiny hands tighten and pull harder and

harder as the slimy organ threatened to elude his grasp.

He ran over to his brother, and shot one more round before the last five shadows came upon him; the lady with the flamethrower, a man with a crowbar, a couple of twin boys who

were swinging chains and a fat man with a cheese grater (He still didn't get why killers were so obsessed with cheese graters. What were they planning on doing with it?).

They were almost upon the brothers when the man Phil was strangling finally breathed his last.

"Woo-hoo!" Phil cried as he threw the intestines onto the floor, and the lady shot a blast of fire into the boys general direction.

The woman had forgotten about the air escaping from the pipe. The flame was only a mere two feet away from the two when it shot into the twins faces, they didn't even have

enough time to scream. Phillip jumped onto the woman, grabbing her flamethrower, and shot another blast into the air. The flames caught onto a couple of boxes of food

shipments, giving the room an odd barbeque-smelling boxed-shrimp.

Throwing that on the ground, he hobbled over to the man with the cheese grater, pushing him onto the man with the crowbar. Phil picked it up, and promptly beat both of the

men's heads in, taking turns between the two, till they were nothing more than bloody pulps of brain matter and bone. He smiled sinisterly at the twins, taking long strides toward

the moaning brothers with the fat man's cheese grater.

Joey looked away. He had seen enough death today; he didn't want to watch a couple of brothers getting their faces scraped off. He could hear it well enough, anyways.

"Who sent you, you worthless pieces of scum?"

Oh, already calling them scum? They were as good as dead, anyways.

"We're not talking! You- you can't make—"

Another blood-curdling scream.

"Please, man! This is sick, I'll tell you what you need to know, just leave Ray alone, he just got mixed up in this a few days ago!"

Another scream.

"Havisham! Havisham sent us! Oh, God, make it stop!"

Joey finally pealed his eyes away from the unconscious woman and looked at his brother. There was burnt flesh stuck to the cheese grater, and more strips lying on the floor. One of

the men had passed out, and the other one was sobbing onto the floor. Joey heard Phil sigh and, dropping the cheese grater and facing his brother, he spoke.

"Well, I think we know what to do now. Joey, take care of the woman. These piles of filth will be my priority."

Joey didn't even bother arguing. He let Phil deal with the twins; he didn't want to touch them, didn't want to go to bed hearing their cries and whimpers in the air. He knew he

would, though. He was an accomplice, he never was all that good with guilt. But the truth was, as he now realized, was that he was terrified of this boy, this _demon_. He'd have to

end this, someday. For now, his resistance would start with the woman.

"Why don't we take her with us?"

Phil turned to his brother. Was he saying what he thought he was? A witness was a witness, and she'd eventually get away. Or die. As he thought that, Estelle's face popped into

his head. He smiled to himself.

"All right. But make sure she's tied and gagged. When we get a ride, I don't want her kicking and screaming."

Joey sighed in relief, putting his hands under her arms. At least he saved someone, although how innocent they were, he wasn't sure.

Edging out of the room, he heard the sobbing man's pleas and screams as Phil hacked him to pieces. Joey shuddered.

One day, he knew, one of the Pire brothers would be screaming like that. It was just a matter of time and a matter of who.


End file.
